#scarlet cap mushrooms

[ai-dadaism]

My favourite keychain so far~!

Check out this cute mushroom keychain of my art~ This design is only up for about two weeks so if you like it, get it while stocks last!

check it out here:

#mushrooms #mushroom #mushroomcore #mushroomart #mushrooms🍄 #aidadaism #mushroomsinajar #gonlincore #mushroomkeychain #🍄 #shein #sheingals #sheinstyle

[moomeecore]

mushrooms! click 4 full view

[garethschweitzer]

Scarlet wax caps on Dartmoor

[mycoblogg]

FOTD #007 : scarlet waxcap! (hygrocybe coccinea)

the scarlet waxcap (AKA scarlet hood & righteous red waxy cap) is a mycorrhizal mushroom from the family hygrophoraceae. they are found across the northern hemisphere !!

the big question : can i bite it?? yes :-) this mushroom is edible.

h. coccinea description :

"a small waxcap with an initially bell-shaped, & later flattening, cap 2–5 cm (¾–2 in) across, scarlet in colour & slimy in texture. the adnate gills are thick & widely spaced, yellow red in colour. the spore print is white. the ringless stipe is 2–5 cm (¾–2 in) high & 0.3–1 cm (⅛–⅓ in) wide, red with a yellowish base. the flesh is yellowish-red & the smell & taste faint. the oval spores measure 7–9.5 x 4–5 μm."

[images : source, source & source] [fungus description : source]

"BRIGHT RED. 🤍 i love these little guys; waxcaps are the best !!"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Autumn (Sandman One-Shot)

​GIF: Originally posted by @thisgameissonintendo

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Pure fluff. Friends to more-than-friends. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together.

Warnings: Physical intimacy, kissing.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Happy First Day of Autumn Sandfam! Hope you enjoy this one, would love to hear what you think, and also to know which season is your favourite and why. All my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

--------------------------------------

"Can I open my eyes yet?" You stifle a giggle with the back of your hand, feeling very much like a person awaiting a surprise on their birthday.

"So impatient," Morpheus replies with a teasing lilt to his liquid velvet voice that sets your laughter free.

"Is that a yes?"

"I am simply adding some final touches."

Ever the perfectionist, you think with a grin.

You inhale deeply, making use of one of the only other senses you could use in this situation. The air is crisp, fresh, with an earthy undertone; you are definitely outside, but where, you have no other clues to help guess.

Morpheus had certainly not given anything away when he had found you sketching in the Dreaming's orchard, charcoal in one hand, half-eaten apple in the other. He had simply told you there was something he wanted to show you.

Curiosity mounting, you had eagerly taken your friend's outstretched hand and promised to not look until he gave the word.

Finally, there is movement in the air beside you. Morpheus' fingers ghost your upper arm to signify his proximity.

"You may open your eyes now," he speaks quietly yet authoritatively by your ear.

You look, blinking to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the swaying branches of numerous trees, before taking the view in properly.

You notice the colours first, their vivacity and variety:

Umber, sienna, scarlet, amber, saffron. All under a pale blue, wispy cloud sky.

Leaves are falling thick and fast. They swirl and undulate in the soft breeze, coming to rest on an already leaf-smothered ground.

Little collections of chestnut coloured mushrooms are dotted next to the tree line. Droplets of dew have gathered on their caps, lending a gorgeous sheen to their already lovely appearance.

Everything you saw was a showcase of autumn.

"You remembered," you say breathlessly, referring to a conversation that had taken place a few weeks ago where you had professed your love for the season and all it entailed.

You look to Morpheus with a sunbeam smile, asking for permission to explore. He nods, extending his arm, communicating that it was all yours.

Your steps into the leafy clearing are gleeful and bouncy, creating satisfying rustling and crunching noises as you go towards the well-established trees. Melodic birdsong echoes from the canopy above you. Swathes of moss begin where the layers of leaves end. You carefully hop onto it and enjoy the way your shoes sink a little into the plush, verdant carpet.

Fingertips trail over the greyish, dappled trunk of a sycamore tree before you move to the tactile, deeply ridged bark of an ash.

You slip your arms around the second tree, close your eyes and give it a big hug.

Everything feels right in this moment.

You open your eyes to see Morpheus watching you from several paces away. There is a twinkle in his deep blue eyes; clearly he finds your display amusing.

The rich autumn colours contrast beautifully against his monochrome attire. None of the falling leaves come close to his person, reminding you that even now, even when he looks to be still, there are a multitude of responsibilities ticking away inside his mind, including the control of the objects within this tranquil dreamscape.

A dreamscape that he wanted to share with you.

It is times like these that you are confronted by the truth of just how special your friendship with Morpheus is. There are fleeting moments where you wish it could be more but for now you are simply an Endless and a mortal who find solace in each other's company.

Pushing yourself away from the tree, you come back into the clearing and find a spot among the leaves to sit. Morpheus joins you after you pat the ground and call his name.

No words are exchanged for a while. You simply pick through the surrounding leaves to find the most vibrant example. A scarlet one, fallen from an aspen is what you settle on. You tuck it in your coat pocket and meet Morpheus' wistful gaze.

"Thank you, I really needed this."

He nods formally. "When you said that you found yourself missing the autumn splendours of the Waking World, I decided to make a version for you to visit at your leisure."

You are taken aback. "You made all this for me?"

"Yes," his tone starts off measured as ever but gives way to something you have never heard before. "Does it have your approval?"

The sudden insecurity is impossibly endearing. You reach sideways to touch the back of his hand.

"Approval? Morpheus, it's - well, somewhere I could only dream of."

He bows his head. "It pleases me to hear that."

"I hope it didn't take up too much of your time to make it all, I know how stretched you can get."

"I cannot deny, it has occupied me a little more than the construction of other recent dreams, however, I believe it necessary to put time and effort into making gifts for those whose pleasure and happiness you find important. You deserve to feel those things, Y/N, and being able to contribute to them in some way brings me pleasure of my own."

You don't know if it the fiery colours around you heightening your reactions but hearing Morpheus talk about pleasure is doing something to you.

It is fuel to the embers that had been smouldering within your body for a couple of months now.

It makes you feel delirious. You find your attention languidly drifting between his eyes and his lips.

Blue to pink, pink to blue.

Then he mirrors your action and it all becomes too much.

"I really want to kiss you right now," you admit, the words rushing out without proper consideration.

"Very well," he answers instantly, not allowing you even a fraction of a second to regret your sudden divulgence.

Doubling down on this approach, he turns his body to face yours and gently cups your face in his long-fingered hands.

He's staring at you so intently, his thumbs run back and forth over your cheekbones, the unwavering attention and sensation causing you to shiver and sigh.

He moves closer and his pupils blow out from anticipation.

Morpheus' perfect lips are now mere centimetres from yours. Fluttery nerves fill your insides. You are so overwhelmed that this is actually happening.

You close the gap, testing the waters with a kiss that is soft and tentative. Morpheus is instantly hooked, initiating a second one that allows you to discover just how skilled he is.

Your hands move up to tangle in Morpheus' unruly hair. At present, you cannot remember how long have you been longing to do this but you are not disappointed by how silken it feels under your palms.

The kiss between you becomes intense, his tongue joining the dance with a bone melting deftness, and soon you want to feel more of his body against yours.

You go to lay back on the bed of leaves.

He pulls away, concern etched in his brows, forehead and eyes that questions if he has gone too quickly.

You smile softly to assure him that all is well.

"Come here." You draw him backwards with you, allowing him to straddle you. During the manoeuvre, his coat falls open enough for you to see the galaxies swirling within the lining.

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you once more, starting at your lips and moving to your neck when he senses that you need to breathe.

The touches of his mouth, the feeling of his body covering yours protectively, the weight of his hips aligned with your own; it has you moaning appreciatively.

He withdraws but remains close, astute eyes drinking in every detail and emotion on your smiling face, the halo-like glow shimmering on your hair.

"So beautiful," Morpheus murmurs reverently.

"Your dreams always are," you say, looking past him at the translucent clouds hovering in the sky above you.

His deep voice rumbles deliciously as he speaks his reply, a false admonishment, "You know that's not what I meant."

He playfully nudges his nose against yours. "This dream pales in comparison to you."

You blush as brightly as the leaf that you had stashed within your pocket. Morpheus traces his fingers over the blossoming redness, marvelling in how the extra heat feels under his touch and how his words were the ones that put it there.

"Kiss me, please," you ask in a whisper.

He arranges his coat to cocoon you against the seasonal chill and then obliges you with a deep and passionate kiss that spreads internal warmth right out to the tips of your fingers and toes.

If your winter continues like this, with Morpheus to hold and bond with, it is shaping up to be infinitely more delightful and cosy than any that have come before.

[gotham25052]

Dark Waters

Part 7

Contents: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Author's note: The complete chapter is posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60435238/chapters/158405293 Please note the warnings/tags on ao3.

I posted a shortened version here where the most explicit portions are removed. (But this version is also NSFW) Brackets [] denote removed portions.

So if you want to avoid the most explicit stuff, stay here, but if you'd like the full chapter, head to ao3. I will also post the link at the first breaking point in the chapter.

TW: 18+, NSFW, violence, sexual content, swearing

When Annie was young, perhaps only six or seven years old, she joined her family in a familiar yearly routine for many in her small rural community. In the early spring, they walked to one of the patches of forest scattered between fields, on a search for edible mushrooms. It was one of the earliest, and most enjoyable, memories of her childhood. The adults took sticks they found on the ground, and broke off the unnecessary twigs, using them to push aside old leaves from fall and the newly sprouted wildflowers and nettles on the forest floor. They wanted to see the ground clearly to spot the brown and tan morels that were so delicious after they were cleaned and fried.

Annie walked slowly in the woods, afraid that she might step on one of the precious mushrooms after she had been cautioned by the adults to be careful where her feet fell. She had an immediate love for the forest in spring - the new buds on the trees made a variegated canopy above her, still letting the blue sky shine through. In many areas, she delighted in the tiny white blooms of wildflowers carpeting the ground, like a fairy wonderland. She imagined it must be what heaven looked like.

The delicate purple of woodland phlox, the luxurious red curves of prairie trillium, the surprising yellow of the wood sorrel, all of them could be found on the forest floor. Beautiful and unique shapes that only appeared in the forest in spring, quick to be overtaken by aggressive weeds in June and July.

But there were also places in the woods she feared. As a little girl, her shorter height made patches of mayapples quite terrifying. Their leaves spread out like small umbrellas on the ground, and their height sometimes came up above her knees. She was always afraid there might be something underneath them, as their spreading canopy created an impenetrable surface she couldn't see through.

And as she followed the adults on their search, the sticks they held pushed back the rotting leaves of fall, sometimes uncovering new flowers or the leaves of small plants, but also sometimes bizarre things - things that looked like they came from another planet. Toadstools, mounds of mica caps, the intricate branching white of coral fungi, the bright red of scarlet cup. She didn't like the strange surfaces and bizarre colors of them and the way they appeared out of nowhere when the leaves were moved aside.

Annie didn't know enough about what was happening in Gotham to have made the comparison, but the city that spring was much like the forest floor of her memories. With their routines changed and the grind of work removed for many people, there were lovely things - newfound pleasures and time together with family. There was young love, like Annie's growing affection for the Joker, which at its root was sweet and pure, like wildflowers. But there were other things growing unseen under the rotten leaves of fall, foul things, ugly things, misshapen souls and violent desires. Especially for the young men of Lower Gotham, the disappearance of any regular occupation and their constant harassment at the checkpoints led to growing gangs, some wearing clown masks, some not; some angry at the injustice of the passport system, some simply angry at anything that got in their way. The contrast of darkness and light couldn't have been more pronounced. It was exceptional, that spring in Gotham.

Annie lived like someone suspended, walking on a thin wire between two realities. Her previous existence in Gotham, full of work, self-denial, and control was now gone. There was no job that kept her up late, no commutes through the city, no juggling of bills to pay. In front of her, there was an uncertain future. She didn't feel ready to commit herself to whatever world she was now in - so much was unknown to her. And she still feared discovery, if somehow the police figured out her real identity.

She hovered on the wire, unable to go back, and unsure about moving forward, with a black abyss stretching out below her.

Annie's situation was unique, of course, but many others around her in Lower Gotham also found themselves suspended in their lives in different ways. Many of them had lost their jobs due to the difficulty of the commute to Upper Gotham, too, and they also didn't know what the future brought. The general atmosphere was one of uncertainty, in a way exciting due to the strange emptiness of the streets and the promise of something new and unexpected in the absence of the everyday drudgery of work. But it was also disconcerting, as people waited to see what this new world would bring.

Thankfully, the past public relations disaster of Dent's comment about the food shipments to Lower Gotham meant that there was an overabundance of food deliveries from Upper Gotham, Annie noticing that at least one drop point was located on the street below her window. She would walk past the boxes every day when she went out for walks. She always went out in the early morning hours when there were few people on the streets. She was beginning to run low on food, but she still had some time before she would have to ask the Joker's men, stationed near her door, for help getting more. She was nervous about approaching them, but she would do it when she had to.

She often stopped in the apartment building's lobby to gather more information about what was happening in Gotham from the small TV there. She was especially interested, of course, in what kind of search they were mounting for her, and how careful she should be. She had been mentioned in the news, a mysterious woman the Joker had deposited at the hospital. But her story was one among many others about Dent's checkpoints, thankfully. And by some stroke of luck, probably because she had not yet been placed under arrest, no one had taken her photo in the hospital. The only images shared on the news were sketches, all of them hopelessly inaccurate. The only feature they seemed to get right was her unusually blue eyes.

As the weeks passed by, Annie's health returned. Her recovery was slow and the changes imperceptible at first, as recovery from a long illness often is, but soon enough her face was filling out again into its usual form, erasing the hollowness of her cheeks. The youthful bloom of color on her face came back, making it hard to tell that she wasn't just a normal young woman who hadn't gone through trauma and illness. Her walks brought back her strength, and though the burden of uncertainty always weighed heavily on her, she did thrive on the freedom to shape her days and roam as she wished.

With her newfound time, her mind wandered back to things she had enjoyed in her childhood. She had loved music, but of course all the music in her small community centered around hymns sung in a religious setting. She could still sing them, all of them, but she could no longer get enjoyment out of them. Everything from her past in the Church was tarnished beyond repair. She gave up on trying to pursue music as a hobby, the sadness of her personal history still hanging over her.

Her thoughts most often found a way to wander to him, to the Joker. In a way, she was more afraid of meeting him again now than she ever had been before. She understood her feelings better now, but she felt completely unsure of what would happen when they met. She often found herself dwelling on the kiss they had shared, hoping just the memory could give her some satisfaction and perhaps allow her a break from her thoughts of him. But the kiss was not just a kiss - whether it was real or just a show by the Joker, she didn't know, but despite its generous sweetness, his kiss had a hunger in it. She could feel that he wanted more. And examining herself, she realized that she had responded to him with a lustful desire too. She was surprised at the strength of her own feelings and reactions. The memories of him had helped get her through her time in the hospital, but now the memories were not enough. Now she could feel a need for him in a way she had never experienced.

Of course she had been with someone before, but it was as far from this as night from day. She was so young, she had barely even thought of the opposite sex, and then a marriage was thrust upon her and consummated as a matter of course, without any consideration for her inexperience. Her body grew accustomed to the way her husband came to her and the shock wore off, but nothing like love or even attraction ever developed for her. When she had escaped to Gotham, one of her chief victories was simply to have power over her own body again. And she left it in peace, not wanting to stir anything that would lead to being involved with anyone again. She had assumed she would keep that pledge with herself for the rest of her life, but now everything was different. She still felt some anger toward the Joker for having woken up all these complexities in her, for pursuing her like this. But even with his seeming dedication to getting her out of the hospital, she also didn't really know anything about him. Would she even see him again? She admitted to herself that she wasn't sure. Maybe he did this kind of thing all the time, with many women…

The Joker opened the door and walked in with barely a glance at her, his long strides cutting across the room to the kitchen. This was the first time she had seen him since he had brought her back from the hospital. She was standing behind the counter, but he ignored her, silently opening each cabinet door and slamming it again, then ending with the refrigerator. He was a flurry of motion, his open purple coat flying out behind him each time he turned. The anger was clear on his painted face.

He whipped past her and left the kitchen, standing in front of her on the other side of the counter. "Every cabinet is empty. What's wrong with you, Annie? I told you to tell my men whenever you needed anything. It's been weeks, and they said they haven't heard a word from you." His loud, accusing voice rang through the cramped apartment.

But Annie barely heard him. She forgave him inwardly for his outburst. She was used to rationing, she'd been doing it her whole life. He didn't understand that. And something about the way his anger animated him today, it highlighted the strange grace in the way he moved. The strength apparent in his body even under the layers of clothing, the way he spun around almost like he was dancing instead of reprimanding her, it all struck her with far more force than his words.

He opened his eyes wide, seeing that she was not reacting with the fear he expected. He thought she must be off in one of her other worlds again, with her faraway look. "You know, I even have the food drops from Upper Gotham set up right here, right under your window. You could ask my men, or you could go down yourself, and just take something." He took a seat in the lone chair in the room, leaning his head down and raising his hand to his forehead to push his hair back in frustration.

She had moved out from behind the counter, walking toward him, not really knowing what she was doing. She came closer, hardly daring to touch this tornado, this force of nature.

She remembered her last thoughts, how they all centered around him, when she was on her journey into the snow. He had destroyed the life she had, but the swath of color he left in his wake dazzled her eyes. She knew she was stepping off the wire now, letting herself fall. With him here in front of her, though, it was easy - so easy.

"What can I do to get you to understand, when you want something, take it?" he muttered, more talking to himself now than to her. With his head down, he hadn't noticed how close she was. A calm came over her and she knelt down in front of him, putting her hands on the sleeves of his coat, the texture scratching her skin as she slid them down the purple fabric and lifted her eyes to meet his. She felt very much like she was playing with fire, and the flames might stretch one way or the other.

He raised his head to meet her gaze. "Just take it" he said slowly. His eyes were softened but still shone intensely, like burning embers before the flames break out. He brought his hands up to either side of her face, guiding her chin upward. He had been so wrapped up in his frustration that he hadn't noticed how the color had returned to her face, but now he could see the youthful glow there again and knew that her health had come back to her.

He had wanted to make her wait, he had wanted to make her suffer like he had suffered, waiting for her. But the look on her face, almost like her feelings gave her pain, melted those plans away. He brought their lips together, the sweetness of the kiss spreading down her neck and warming her body.

He broke away from the kiss, standing up abruptly and bringing her up with him. He could feel the refreshed strength in her body. He pushed her backward, making her stumble, but by now he had his arms around her, supporting her until she found her back against the wall. "I wanted to do this before," he said. He bent down to slowly kiss her neck, his tongue caressing her skin.

"I thought you wanted to kill me." she murmured.

"No, remember, I wanted to save you," he sighed, pressing his hand onto the middle of her chest until she could not draw a breath. But she didn't care. Her eyes were glazed over with desire. His lips met hers and he was quickly inside her mouth, pushing her head back, and he relaxed the pressure on her chest as if he was too distracted to maintain it. She gasped involuntarily and the sound only made him more desperate. His earnestness and focus made him seem almost innocent, wholesome.

He broke away from the kiss and pushed her back against the wall again, looking at her searchingly. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. "Do you want me to take off the paint?" His tone was completely changed from a moment earlier. It was light and inquisitive, as if they were just chatting about the weather. Her eyes dwelled on the exquisite textures and garish colors running across his face.

"No," she shook her head slowly, mesmerized by him. "I like it." He rolled his eyes down to her, giving her a knowing stare.

"The police were right, you do belong in Arkham - you're fucking crazy" he said distractedly, as he brought his body close to hers again.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

Link to ao3 for full version, note the warnings/tags there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60435238/chapters/158405293

The night stretched out before them. She sometimes felt she was above the sparkling waves and completely free, and at other times like she was deep under the dark currents. But when she reached too high or too low, his voice came back to her and tethered her to reality. He molded her into a thousand forms and then drew her back with a raspy order.

She woke up in the morning to his fingers lightly dragging along her neck from her ear to her collarbone, and back again. His side was propped against the wall, giving her his chest to lean against as her eyes opened and she surveyed the room. She was in her simple box of an apartment, but somehow she now felt unimaginably wealthy. His strong body behind her and the luxurious strokes of his fingers on her neck could have been a queen's throne and the most expensive of necklaces - she felt surrounded by opulence as she turned the soles of her feet back to feel his legs behind her.

"Kitten, go to sleep. I have to get back to my work."

"No," she said, but she already felt her eyelids drooping lazily. The hypnotizing strokes of his fingers hastened her return to sleep, and she was soon dreaming again.

He waited until she was sleeping deeply, then left the bed and took his clothes from the floor, dressing slowly and deliberately. He put his head out the door and asked his men for a cigarette and a light. Because he didn't often smoke, they weren't prepared, but luckily they found one of them had a cigarette leftover from their long night of keeping watch. He drew in a deep drag and went back into the room. He sat in the one wooden chair, looking at her on the bed, as if he was enjoying her unmoving, unconscious state. He starred out of the window at the city, surprisingly bright this morning with rare sun reflecting from the buildings' shiny facades. He found his eyes traveling up and down her legs as he finished the cigarette and looked down at the burning ember left in his hand. He seemed to tear his gaze away with some effort. He stepped into the hallway, dropped the small remains of the cigarette on the floor, and snuffed it out with a few purposeful turns of his foot.

The men stationed at her door called him, interrupting his conversation with one of the GCPD officers he had bankrolled. "It's been almost a day now since you… visited, Boss, and we haven't heard anything from inside the apartment. No water on, no footsteps. We thought you should know."

"I'll be there," he responded, and hastily put away his phone. He left the scene without another word, swiftly walking back to the car. As soon as it was parked on the street outside her building, he was taking the stairs to her apartment two at a time. He felt frustrated - this was the second time he hadn't been able to predict her actions, the second time he was rushing to her apartment - how could she be so uncontrollable? A prickle of fear now began to rise up his spine. He hadn't thought she would take any drastic actions, he thought he had left her happy. He knew a lot of what made Annie tick, but at the same time, she had a certain remoteness that was hard to read. There was a silence to her that he couldn't decipher.

He quickly opened the door without a glance at his men and was immediately relieved to see her sitting up on the far edge of the bed, her back toward him. She was completely naked, as he had left her, and the blankets and items thrown off the bed were still strewn over the floor. He closed the door behind him and walked toward her. He moved more slowly as he came closer, coming around the bed to face her. She sat with her hands to her sides as if to get up, but she was completely motionless. He bent down on his knees to get a clear look at her face. Her eyes were focused far away, her expression blank.

Despite her vacant stare, his eyes lingered on the perfect curve of her lips. He took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply.

She seemed to stir and begin to return from whatever far away journey her mind had been on. He felt the pressure on his lips as she responded to his kiss. She pulled away, focusing her gaze back into the present and studying his face quietly. She reached up and traced her fingers over his scar, from his ear to the corner of his mouth. She kept tracing the imaginary line and found the indentation of the cut in his lower lip. She touched it delicately, taking her time to feel the ripple in his smooth skin. She began to speak, her voice raspy: "My lover is handsome and strong; he is one in ten thousand. His cheeks are a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh… His mouth is most sweet…"

He didn't like for anyone to touch his scars, but the gentle way her fingers glided over them and the strange poetry falling from her lips would not allow him to protest.

Her words hung eerily in the dim room. He brought her toward him, holding the back of her neck and kissing her, this time messily dragging his lips from her mouth to her neck.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

The men outside shrugged. They were never surprised by the Joker's erratic behavior. They returned to their game of cards in the hallway.

"Ok, upsy daisy, kitten." They had woken up together in the morning, and he had decided it would be best to take her outside with him. Maybe the fresh air would snap her back into her usual self. Though, if he was being honest, he liked his kitten being so dedicated to him. He really was a selfish man. She seemed to only breath when he told her to, her body only moving when his hands were on her. But he knew it wasn't sustainable - she needed to take care of herself. He wondered what had happened in that faraway mind of hers.

First, he would have to get them cleaned up. She was a disaster and he assumed he probably looked no better. She smiled at his efforts to pull her out of bed, making it difficult for him to get her up and into the bathroom. But she eventually relented, and once he turned on the water to the shower, she seemed to perk up a bit and reached her hand in to splash him with the water.

It was something beautiful to see her like this, seemingly without any inhibitions and allowing herself to act like a child. Growing up the way she had, so quickly being saddled with the responsibilities of adulthood in a community that trained girls to take on the housework and care of younger siblings so early, she had never really gotten to be a child. The Joker's life was a mystery, but maybe his childhood had been taken away from him too. The way they giggled as they bumped against each other getting into the shower, the way he laughed at the pitiful stream of water streaming from the showerhead in the cheap apartment, it seemed like two people living a late moment of thoughtless fun, like children again for this short time.

The small shower of a compact apartment didn't allow them much room, especially for his tall form. But they made it work, laughing as they grabbed the shampoo. They fought over it first, but then he relented and let her take some. He had to bend down for her to reach him as she washed his hair, slowly working the foam into his scalp with her fingertips. He washed hers next, enjoying the slippery feel of her wet hair.

She set her eyes on his face, seeing that their night together and the shower had taken off a great deal of his makeup. She decided to work on removing the rest, grabbing a cloth and rubbing it over the remaining paint gently, patiently. It was stubborn but finally relented, staining the cloth with its colors.

With the makeup mostly off now, only a trace of the black eyeshadow left and a little embedded red in the creases of his scars, he looked suddenly so young and so simple. As she worked on removing the last traces of the paint, she wondered what he was before he was the Joker. The naked skin of his body and now his face too made him seem suddenly vulnerable, and she knew he could see the question in her eyes. He put an arm around her to draw her closer, saying, "Annie, don't ask me about my past, please." She was taken aback. The way he said please with such a supplicating tone, as if he was afraid of her - as if she could hurt him. She had never heard him speak like that before. She looked up at him with concern. "Ok," she said, reaching her hand up to his face and cradling his cheek there. He took her face in his hands, bringing their lips together and kissing her deeply. The taste of the water was so different from the smooth waxy flavor she was used to. His lips offered more resistance now, giving her a better grip as she drug her mouth over his. It was a desperate kiss, a wonderful kiss.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

"Annie, these clothes are horrible. You only have your work clothes?" He was trying to find something for her to wear. He didn't wait for an answer from her. He went to the door, poking his head out and addressing his men. "Go get the red dress from the van, it's still in the box. And get me that bag under the seat."

He had handed her a hairbrush and told her to use it, and when he checked on her, she seemed to be complying. His men soon returned with the items he had requested. He lifted the red dress out of the box, the same one she had worn to the news station months ago. She looked at it with some hesitation, revealing the Annie the Joker was accustomed to. "I should get some underwear," she said. "No, kitten, this dress doesn't need it," he said, and hastily lifted it over her head. She allowed him to pull it over her obediently. "Now finish with your hair," he said, handing the brush back to her. She struggled with it for a bit and finally gave up, letting some of the tangles remain.

She entered the main room of the apartment, where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and wearing a brown sweater, the makeup still absent and his hair pulled back again, like it had been in the hospital. She was struck with the rich color of the sweater and how it complemented his eyes. It took some effort to stop looking at him. "Genevieve said you'd like it," he said as a matter of course, as if Genevieve was some old friend of them both. He got up and came closer to Annie, speaking into her ear, "She said you'd want to eat me, if I wore this. I think she was right." Annie knew her deep breaths betrayed her, but she decided not to give him the satisfaction of telling him that his friend had guessed correctly.

"When was the last time you had a meal," he asked her, and she looked up to the ceiling as if she would find the answer there. "I don't know," she responded, seeming to truly not know. "Ok, kitten, that's what I thought. I've got some food on the way."

Soon, a feast was arriving through her door. Fresh fruit, breads, cheese, fragrant soups, more meat than she had ever had in her apartment at one time. Her eyes were wide, just taking it in. She really was very hungry, now that she saw the food there. She began to take bits of it, enjoying the incredible variety he had brought. She was more than unaccustomed to this kind of luxury. She looked over at him. He was eating too, but she could tell from his sly smile, he was watching to see what she'd do. Maybe he was wondering if her long history of poverty and scarcity would show itself, and she would try to save anything that they couldn't eat. He had certainly gotten far more than was needed for two people.

She thwarted his plan, opening the door to her apartment and finding three of his men there, as she expected. She invited them in to eat - "The Joker wanted you to come and eat too," she said, motioning to the food.

The Joker rolled his eyes at her, now eating his fill before his men took it all.

They departed from the steps at the foot of her apartment building, making their way to one of the main thoroughfares of Lower Gotham. "Where are we going?" she said, wondering what the purpose of this outing was.

"Just on a walk, kitten, I thought you liked walks."

"These are strange walking clothes," she said, looking over at him and then down at the ornate embroidery and sequins on the form-fitting red dress.

"Nothing is strange in Gotham now," he said with a smile.

He took her arm in his and they walked onward, mostly ignored by passers by, though some eyes lingered on her overly formal dress. The weather was unusually warm for spring in Gotham, and neither of them required a jacket. He had tossed a light scarf on, presumably to disguise his scars. The weather had lured out many of the residents of Lower Gotham - the streets were busier than she had seen them since the food crisis. She began to feel nervous, knowing from the trajectory of the events she had seen on the news in the hospital that large gatherings in Lower Gotham might not have positive results.

They seemed to be coming upon more and more people as they neared the entrance to one of the bridges, and she soon saw why. Makeshift scaffolding was set up, blocking the roadway, a man on top gesticulating and speaking to the crowd. Chaos surrounded them, some people obviously rushing away from the scene to avoid being drawn up in the mob and others rushing toward it, cheering after each statement he made. He seemed to be voicing complaints about the passport system, pointing out the injustice inherent in it. "Upper Gotham gentlemen and ladies," he said mockingly, "don't need to prove their identity to cross over to our side of the city, but us Lower Gotham 'rats' have to show this special ID and explain why we are crossing to the other side of our own city!" The crowd cheered when he said 'rats,' clearly understanding his reference to Dent's disparaging comment in the leaked audio that came out months ago.

The Joker had grabbed her hand and was leading them closer and closer to the base of the scaffolding, past even the crowd that had gathered in the front row of spectators. "What are you doing?" she asked, concerned. He turned to look back at her and had a wild grin on his face. He had obviously come up with some kind of plan, whether simply mischievous or murderous, she didn't know. "Did you know this was here?" she asked, looking up at the rickety platform as they stepped under it. "No, the people of Gotham did this all by themselves, kitten," he said with excitement in his voice.

The man who had been speaking came down the ladder on the side of the scaffolding, and the Joker strode up to him, somehow hiding the perverse excitement on his face and changing his expression to one of earnestness. She was disconcerted by how quickly he pulled off the transition. Could he always change his personality on command like this?

"That was amazing," he said to the man, as if he was completely taken aback by his eloquence on the platform. "So inspiring. My girlfriend here, her father was killed by the GCPD just two weeks ago. She's been so distraught. She'd really like to say a few words to the crowd." He pulled Annie up beside him, jerking her arm with more than a little strength due to her reticence to come any closer. She simply stood there, wide-eyed.

The man's face was confused but then melted into a generous expression, matching the Joker's feigned earnestness. "Of course. Everyone is welcome here. Go on up."

The Joker turned to her. The light scarf, which wasn't really disguising much anyway, fell down to his chin. "Go on up, sweety. Tell them all about it. I know you have a lot to get off your chest about this." As he ended his words to her, a toothy grin slowly took over the false sincerity of his face. No one could see his expression but her from this angle.

He had seen an opportunity to cause trouble, something irresistible to the Joker, but also, he had been looking for something exactly like this on their walk, some situation he could put her in that would help snap her out of her trance-like state. Being on stage seemed uncomfortable enough to force her to think again, to craft something that would get her out of it.

She stood there, still stunned. "Ok, honey," he said, irritation beginning to edge into his voice. "Up you go!"

He lifted her onto the ladder, placing her hands and feet on the rungs so that she was starting to climb to the to the plywood platform above. She looked back down at him with accusing eyes as she grabbed one rung after the other, the whole structure swaying slightly as she reached the top. It must have been just about one story tall, not a massive height for onlookers, but once she was on top looking down, it seemed quite tall indeed. She had no idea what to say, finding herself standing there on the platform, looking out at the large crowd below. She knew their anger wasn't directed at her, but her ridiculous dress and the seriousness of their faces did not help calm her worries.

The Joker was below chatting with the previous speaker. "Just stage fright, she'll snap out of it."

As she sometimes did in moments of panic, her mind retreated to the words imprinted there since childhood. Her terrified expression turned to one of blank calm, and the murmurs from the crowd began to quiet in expectation. Something about the figure in the red dress seemed like an omen to them. She was a strange vision, like some kind of avenging angel that had appeared there.

Her voice rang out, surprising both for how well it carried and for its femininity in the male-dominated crowd.

"Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places a plain.

"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword…"

The simple words seemed to strike a deep chord with the crowd, and they began to cheer with a volume and intensity that not only alarmed Annie, but also caused the Joker to take action. Someone had a gun and a shot rang out into the sky, the mass of people so riled up that they just cheered more with the sound instead of cowering at it.

His tone completely changed from his mischievous teasing earlier as he yelled up to her, "Stop, kitten, get down, now." She obeyed, crawling on her hands and knees to the edge of the platform and endeavoring to get her grasp on the ladder again. She managed to climb halfway down, even with the difficult dress, and then she felt his arms grabbing her from behind and taking her the rest of the way. He set her feet on the ground and grabbed her hand as they looked for a way out. People were rushing underneath the scaffolding, heading toward the central checkpoint on the other side of the bridge. The plywood platform began to teeter and shake with the rushing bodies.

The Joker took her hand and at first ran with the crowd, because there really was no other option. Once the mass of people spread out on the bridge, there was more room to maneuver, and he was able to weave them in and out of the streams of people. He moved so fast, she had trouble keeping up, but he kept a secure grasp on her hand that she knew wouldn't waver. Finally they were out of the rush of people and could turn back to her apartment. They began to walk at a normal pace again, and he swung their hands back and forth like they were on the most lighthearted of strolls. He wore a sly smile, while she had a fearful expression from what she had just witnessed.

"Well, that was very interesting…" he said. She didn't know how to respond, still processing what had happened. When they passed the next alleyway, he suddenly slid off the main street into it, taking her with him. He pulled her close, his hands finding easy purchase on her waist and her thigh under the high slit of the dress. "You were so beautiful there, looking up at that platform with those scared eyes."

[] (Explicit portion removed)

He smiled and took her hand, straightening her dress over the mess he had made of her, and they both ran back in the direction of her building. A smile spread across her face and he could hear her laugh trying to keep up with him, as they ran together down the street, drunk with each other.

Late into the night, the van arrived near Annie's building to take the Joker on a special patrol he had wanted to complete, checking on key locations in the city. This had been a long day for the driver, and he didn't have a lot of patience for the Joker's antics. He headed inside to see what was going on. He soon found himself in the hallway outside her apartment, and not hearing anything from inside, ignored the warnings from the two men stationed there and took matters into his own hands, opening the door. He walked in and called, "Hey, the van…" He immediately regretted it.

The moonlight was the only illumination in the room, but he could easily see the details of their bodies, intertwined and naked. The paint was nearly gone from the Joker's face and it instead marked their bodies like some kind of jungle camouflage, smudges and splashes of it glowing everywhere on their skin in the half-light. They looked over at the intruder at the same time - the Joker with his eyes alert and fiery like a lion on top of its prey, her eyes dazed and misty and her lips parted with heavy breaths. Fear rooted the driver to the spot.

"I'm. Not. Done," the Joker growled darkly, fixing him in his gaze and slowly enunciating every word. The driver shook off the terror that held him and turned quickly, running from the room and into the hallway, sprinting away without a backward glance. He kept running into the streets of Gotham, abandoning the van. He likely left Gotham that night, knowing that the best way to escape the Joker's wrath would be to leave the city.

[] (Explicit portion removed)

Author's note: [spoilers!] I hope I didn't disturb anyone too much with the speed of their relationship development - I just really felt that once Annie's hesitation was gone, the floodgates would open. It made sense to me. Though the Joker here is pretty chatty lol, I thought they would both express themselves better physically than verbally. I apologize if any of this is rough around the edges - it's a new type of writing for me. I think some portions are special and hope at least those came across well.

This is fanfic, so of course I don't own any characters from The Dark Knight (Joker, Batman, etc.). The main female character is original.

Image attributions:

Forest Dietmar Rabich / Wikimedia Commons / “Haltern am See, Hohe Mark -- 2020 -- 6883” / CC BY-SA 4.0

Woodland phlox Jay Sturner from USA, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Prairie trillium USGS Bee Inventory and Monitoring Lab from Beltsville, Maryland, USA, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Wood sorrell 6th Happiness, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

[arkus-rhapsode]

Gaming Hot Take of the Day: I feel like companies and costumers really gotta do better with managing expectations.

Now look I’m a bit more lenient of fans cause in a lot of ways, fans enthusiasm is often what keeps a piece of media alive. You got a game like paper Mario TTYD and it’s almost 20 years old now. And for those 20 years you could only legally play it on a GameCube. Fans of that game kept it alive-they were the ones making fan art and games inspired by it (shout out to Bug Fables) hell it’s been a minute from my smash bros fanfic days but it was the first two paper Mario games I remember often being used as the world building for those fics interpretation of the mushroom kingdom.

But there’s recently been a miasma around the sales of the remake. Namely it’s not cracked two million despite all the time it’s been on the market. Now there are factors you can look at like it didn’t release in a holiday season, the switch is on its eighth year, and it’s a remaster which really tend to have a lack of enthusiasm compared to a brand new release.

But for a lot of Paper Mario fans, this game coming back was a holy grail-that if it returned that it would do incredibly well and send a message to corporate. And it did, in Nintendo’s own words, “solid.” Nothing spectacular but clearly not a failure. You can probably guess that like Metroid or DMC, the answer is this type of game does have a bit of a cap on people who are actually interested in dropping $60 for a game despite how iconic the property is.

However, we’re not just talking about luxury products were talking about art and art is often times is tied up in people’s emotions. And sometimes it can be disappointing when there are these great games that only do a fraction of something like Pokémon Scarlet/Violet. A game objectively broken and yet still makes bank. So yes, while I wish more fans were realistic about what a game “deserves,” I understand them. And I think their passion and enthusiasm keeps games alive.

But then there’s companies. Oh lord do I have some opinions on their unrealistic expectations. I know I harped on Nintendo but at the very least that’s a company that at least acknowledges anything of theirs that breaks a million is pretty decent. Meanwhile you got EA and Activision who just abandon properties people love in the name of evergreen money printing ventures.

And boy the marketing doesn’t help. There is so many game trailers these days that always feel kinda flat and I don’t know why I should invest in this. Or if it’s a story driven game where they spoil everything in the trailer.

Look I understand that these companies are businesses they can’t make 300 games at a time and expect to stay afloat. I’m not saying they need to revive every IP. But there’s gotta be some middle ground. I think a game can be a success if you manage your budget, man power, and development cycle more efficiently and pair it with decent marketing. Not everything will sell like Call of Duty and that’s okay. But no it’s always go big or go home.

There’s stuff you can do to mitigate some of this. Make games more accessible and available (Nintendo really needs this lesson) so that people have the opportunity to play these and become fans even if no new game happens. Focus on stronger marketing of what the game is about and what can be expected. Not just teasing with cinematic for an overly long hype cycle. If a game is gonna be exclusive to one system you’re probably gonna need to account for working with a limited user base (Hello Square Enix).

I think of myself as someone who is pretty good at managing my expectations, but that was something I had to do myself. Game companies sure didn’t do it for me.

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

(Her mother kissing the scrapes on her palms and knees; Laudna sat on the kitchen table and muddied after an excursion into the edges of the woods. What if Laudna kissed the puncture under Imogen's ribcage? Painted her lips red like the scarlet elf cap mushrooms before their retreat? Who would stumble upon them? See her hunched over, vulture tearing at carcass, washed in red that covers palms and up to her knees. Drinking. Feasting-

maybe she would be.)

[ribbons-and-keys]

Midsummer Moment

Another TADC Faerie!AU installment. A little something for the Summer Solstice.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shades of vanilla and rose ribboned the horizon as stars began to peak their heads though the darkening sky; they were witnesses to the boisterous festivities below. Music and laughter muddled and mixed in the sea of swaying bodies. Despite the large crowd and summer heat, no one seemed to break a sweat. Pomni felt like she was the exception.

Sweat gathered at the base of her neck and made the back of her jumpsuit stick. Pieces of her dark hair stuck to the sides of her face. She already abandoned her mushroom cap on some tree branch to relieve herself of heat. (It would appear again in some convenient place, courtesy of an enchantment placed by Caine). The humidity stubbornly latched onto her skin and made her already exhausting evening even more unpleasant. She was half tempted to sneak off to the lake and soak in it's cool waters. She knew, however, that Caine wouldn't let anyone go off on their own tonight.

It was Midsummer, "One of the grandest and greatest celebrations for faeries!" as Caine had put it. And he insisted that everyone join. Zooble almost got away with a quiet evening alone, but Caine caught them in their shapeshifted form-a blackbird- before they could get away. In protest, Zooble remained at the edge of the festivities, this time as a wolf, snapping at anyone who got too close. Pomni followed similar suit by standing near a table of treats away from the dancing.

The table was filled with an array of glistening pastries, candied fruit, and tasty, savory bites. Bubble outdid himself with an arrangement of small tea cakes to look like a luna moth. Pomni almost swore the cakes that made the wings fluttered ever so slightly off the table. She still couldn't get used to the strangeness of this place.

Once upon a time, when she was human, magical celebrations were found in books and movies. Although her memory of such things were still cloudy, she knew that the party before her was a thousand times more extravagant. It was also more horrifying.

There was something about this revelry that was extremely off-putting. Beneath the smiling faces and sparkles, there was an eerie truth that had yet to be uncovered. Pomni couldn't put her finger on what it was.

"Need a drink?" a kind voice asked. The faerie woman held a cup of something shimmery and pink towards Pomni.

"Thanks, Ragatha," Pomni took the mystery drink graciously and drank down it's saccharine contents.

"No problem," she said sweetly and took her place beside Pomni. Ragatha's cellophane wings twitched slightly as she looked up. A few strands of scarlet, yarn-hair came loose from her bun.

"Caine outdid himself tonight, don't you think Pomni?" she chirped. Pomni clutched her clay cup.

"I'm not really one for parties," she confessed awkwardly. They were still trying to figure each other out. They were friendly enough with each other, but they hadn't found that spark of realtibility just yet.

"Oh! That's totally fine! If you need-"

"Excuse me, ladies," Pomni wasn't sure to be thankful or groan at Jax's arrival. His cheshire smile gleamed underneath his shadowy cowl. The keys hanging from his neck clinked merrily.

"Yes, Jax?" Ragatha said politely. From the corner of her eye, Pomni saw Ragatha clutching the sides of her violet dress.

"The little 'shroom owes me a dance," Jax declared. He grabbed Pomni's hand before she could protest and dragged her to the dance floor.

They stumbled upon a group of faeries engaged in a circle dance. Jax practically threw Pomni into their midst, with the other faeries catching her by the hand with ease. He slipped between Pomni and another faerie, not once breaking the dance.

They spun and spun. Time seemed to both be too fast and too slow as they did. Colors became faces and faces became colors. Pomni tried to pull herself away from the dance. Her legs were growing tired and her feet ached terribly. She felt herself slipping towards the floor. Her body was crying out for rest. But hey held onto her like a fly in honey. They wouldn't stop. They couldn't stop.

Pomni finally understood. She would have fun whether she wanted to or not.

[smudgingpumpkins]

03.07.2024

Russula emetica

-Also known as "The Sickener"-

Where: Worldwide, predominately in Europe, North Africa, and parts of Asia and North America

Grows in both coniferous and mixed woodlands, especially near pines and spruces.

When: July-October

I took this picture myself while roaming around the woods in the South Carolina midlands.

As the nickname suggests, this mushroom is not meant to be eaten. It is not the most toxic or deadly or anything . . . but ingestion can result in nausea, cramping, vomiting, and diarrhea.

----------

Appearance:

These shrooms can be hard to specifically identify. The most notable trait is its flat or convex, bright red cap, which can become pinkish and sticky when wet. The gills are white and cramped together; and are free, adnexed, or adnate from the stem. This mushroom is very brittle.

Russula emetica has a white and somewhat thick stem that is between 4.5 - 9.5 cm in length.

Taste:

Being dubbed "The Sickener," it is recommended to avoid eating it. Russula emetica can cause gastrointestinal issues like vomiting and diarrhea but is not considered fatal unless the consumer is immunocompromised.

However, if cooked well, it is said to be rather hot, spicy, and peppery, with a slightly fruity aroma. This mushroom could work well as spices for soups, stews, and goulash!

In fact, Russula emetica used to be commonly eaten in Eastern Europe. The mushroom was consumed after being parboiled and/or pickled.

You should ALWAYS cook wild mushrooms for the safest outcome, even if you are sure the mushrooms you foraged are safe to eat.

Medicinal Use:

Russula mushrooms, or "Brittlegills," generally may harbor anti-inflammatory, antioxidant, anti-tumor, and immunomodulatory properties. To put it simply, research suggests Russula could improve the body's ability to fight infections and diseases.

I cannot find much information for the Russula emetica. Though they can be a good source of calcium, potassium, vitamin C, organic acids, and other minerals.

Of course, mushrooms do not substitute medical attention. Further research is needed, only showing that Russula could help with relieving or preventing disease symptoms.

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**While identifying Russula can be relatively easy, determining the specific species is notoriously difficult. I myself probably misidentified the photo as emetica, but at least the information is interesting enough.

**The photo may instead be the "Beechwood Sickener," or Russula nobilis . . . but regardless, they both have scarlet caps and can make you sick!

**Russula mushrooms can be confused with Amanita mushrooms, particularly if the latter shroom has a red cap.

If you are unsure of the genus of mushroom, look at the stem. Amanitas have bulbous stems whereas the Russula have straight, thick stems. Red Amanitas usually have more rounded caps when mature, as well as white spots all over them, like the classic toadstool. Red Russula shrooms often have flatter caps.

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Also, here is a handy diagram on gill attachment types, which may help identify the Russula! The image was taken from ResearchGate.

[ai-dadaism]

Looking for something simple and yet exquisite to add to your wintery forest collection? Then get this little trinket~ a keychain designed by me, available on Shein for a limited time only. Get it today! Scarlet Cap Keychain

[fire-fly-s]

Animation based on a scarlet cap mushroom!

[graveoversight]

Scarlet elf cap mushrooms nestle in the moss. They're shockingly red against a muted winter palette.

[branther]

🍄‍🟫The Mushroom Collection🍄

All these mushroom inspired pieces will be available alongside my shop restock on November 23rd✨

This collection includes:

Morel citrus juicer

Dryad’s saddle garlic grater

Turkey tail plates

Chicken of the woods platter

Scarlet elf cup multi bowl

Fly agaric mushroom cap bowl

Chicken of the woods candlestick

Indigo milkcap cake stand (which I still need to get a better photo of🙃)

[studyscrasic]

Pulled some new Norwegian vocabulary words from Glad i vårtegn? Vårsoppene er her -- as a forager myself I thought it would be interesting to read about foraging in another country! It turned out to have a lot of really technical language and species names, and not all of them are actually edible mushrooms (some are the opposite!), but it definitely still made for interesting reading.

en vårfagerhatt (n) - St. George's mushroom (Calocybe gambosa) å forveksle (v) - to confuse, mix up giftig (adj) - poisonous en tilpasning (n) - an adaptation, adjustment å tale (v) - to bear, stand, tolerate et omslag (n) - a change å anlegge (v) - to build, construct et legeme (n) - a body å dukke opp - to emerge, turn up et skarlagen vårbeger (n) - scarlet elf-cups (Sarcoscypha austriaca) en kvist (n) - a twig en bekk (n) - a brook, rivulet et svart vårbeger (n) - ebony cups (Pseudoplectania nigrella) å antyde (v) - to hint, imply, suggest en egenskap (n) - a property, trait, characteristic et oransje elgbeger (n) - (Byssonectria terrestris) en hvitveis (n) - wood anemone (Anemone nemorosa) et symrebeger (n) - (Dumontinia tuberosa) en stengel (n) - a stem, stalk en sandmorkel (n) - false morel (Gyromitra esculenta) grov (adj) - coarse, rough et tilfelle (n) - an occasion, case, occurrence kreftfremkallende (adj) - carcinogenic å påvise (v) - to point out, prove en nedbryter (n) - a decomposer en grankonglehatt (n) - sprucecone caps (Strobilurus esculentus) en furu - a pine tree